


Small Game

by Gospelofthewicked



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Anna is constantly full of RAGE, Canon-Typical Violence, Dwight and Meg are mentioned, Evan is a smug bastard, Tentatively developing friendship between two equally fucked up people, The Trapper trespasses into The Huntress' forest and she is displeased
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:54:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26083762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gospelofthewicked/pseuds/Gospelofthewicked
Summary: The crow writhed miserably on the forest floor, cawing intermittently. It stopped when she stepped into the clearing where it lay. The crow needn’t have bothered, she had no interest in it, only what it was caught in.A great steel bear trap, rusted from overuse, crushed the body in its weighty jaws. Scattered around it were breadcrumbs. One still clung to the bird’s beak.Anna tilted her head.
Relationships: The Huntress and The Trapper
Kudos: 31





	Small Game

**Author's Note:**

> Please be mindful that this fic contains violence against an animal resulting in their death, and two Killers duking it out, so turn back if you're not up for that!

It was not long before Anna found the bird. The forest knew to hold its breath when she stalked through the undergrowth, so the pained cries that beckoned from between the trees piqued her interest more than any sound those survivors could have made. The earth was wet from an earlier downpour, and she delighted in the way it squished between her toes. 

The crow writhed miserably on the forest floor, cawing intermittently. It stopped when she stepped into the clearing where it lay. The crow needn’t have bothered, she had no interest in it, only what it was caught in.

A great steel bear trap, rusted from overuse, crushed the body in its weighty jaws. Scattered around it were breadcrumbs. One still clung to the bird’s beak.

Anna tilted her head. Another hunter had been through here without her noticing. And they relied on traps to do their dirty work, abandoning the thrill of the chase altogether. Anna growled under her breath, tearing the bird free. She did not check to see if it had survived the mutilation, swiftly crushing the creature’s windpipe. Before she could decide what to do with her catch, she felt a burning tug in her chest. A prelude to a Trial. The survivors were coming. She placed the broken bird down by the trap, hoping it would serve as a warning. If this new intruder was unfortunate enough to still be skulking in her forest when she returned, she was sure her hatchets would make quick work of this trapper. Anna smiled at the thought, perhaps she’d even meet them this trial.

She did not. That, or they had not been intimidated by her efficient slaughter of all four of them, for the glinting steel traps soon became a recurring sight to her vexed eyes. She even began taking some home, hoping to repurpose parts to make her weapons even more lethal. Still, they continued appearing. Someone clearly had a lot of time, and even more patience. Anna would make them regret their choice of hunting ground. 

She clambered up a tree, settling on a thick branch that oversaw one of the freshly placed traps. Anna tightened her grip on her hatchet. She would wait for however long was necessary.

The Huntress heard the man before she saw him. Steady, thudding steps, that crushed the tall grass and sent birds scattering. A torn mask peered out of the eternal gloom, ripped teeth lining it in a lopsided smile. He was a monster of a man, the muscles in his arms bulging, shards of metal sticking out of his dirt-coated skin. From his swaggering, purposeful stride, it seemed the metal protrusions didn’t pain him.. A closed bear trap swung loosely from his hand as he approached the one beneath her. Normally she’d wait to see where he took his gathering collection, but something about the man enraged her. She wanted to hear the gurgle of blood escaping from his throat, the sound of the hatchet carving out a home in his back. He’d be more of a challenge than those weakling survivors, but that just increased her excitement. 

Anna ran her tongue over her top lip as the man bent down to pick up his trap, his breathing heavy through the mask. She raised her arm, then sent the hatchet flying down into his shoulder. He let out a groan, reaching behind his back to pull the hatchet out, before tossing it aside. With a tangible air of disapproval, he looked up at the branch where The Huntress had been. Another hatchet landed deep into his thigh. He spun around to face the direction this one had come from, somewhere behind him, not bothering to remove the hatchet from his flesh this time. 

Pressed flat against the back of a tree, The Huntress reached for the third and final hatchet in her possession. It was clear she would have to confront him directly, with one decisive strike to an artery. The neck, she decided. Raising her hatchet high, she charged forward. In her unusual fervor to finish her prey quickly, she didn’t see the trap until she’d already stepped on it. 

The metal flashed as it pierced her leg. Pain shot up her calf, and she dimly felt a trickle of blood run down her skin. Through the hole in his mask, The Trapper’s lips curled smugly. He took one heavy step towards her, sending a vibration through her wounded leg. She swung the hatchet back over her head, glaring at him defiantly. If he approached too carelessly, she would bury that hatchet into his neck. If she were to miss, she’d be left without her one defense in an uneven fight. Her knuckles whitened around the hatchet’s handle.

A voice rumbled out from The Trapper’s mask like distant thunder, his voice hushed and hoarse from years of disuse. 

“You’re new.” he growled, tilting his head, “Easy as I thought you’d b-”

The blade embedded itself in his exposed neck, causing him to take a step back. He didn’t cry out, but the amount of blood beginning to flow from the wound was an indication that she had hit her mark. Anna let out a sharp bark of laughter before clambering up a tree, trapped leg dangling uselessly. The last she saw of The Trapper, he was tearing the hatchet out and stumbling, the blood only gushing more freely in its absence. She dropped down from the furthest branch, ignoring the crunch of bone, and didn’t stop limping until she had collapsed in the doorway.

She was not the only one left injured from the violent encounter.

For the next couple of trials, Evan struggled. The wound in his neck would not heal instantly after a trial, an advantage the survivors had over him. Even the man with glasses had grown more confident, rushing over to save his hooked companions while Evan stood right by them, knowing his injury would slow him down. He had begrudgingly accepted that the coming weeks were going to be slow and rough. Perhaps that was why he was so surprised to see the trap placed neatly on his worktable. He didn’t need to count his traps to know that this was the one he had ensnared The Huntress with. It had been coated in wood ash to make it less visible, and beside it was a full pouch of logwood dye. He grinned.

The Huntress had been performing miserably at the trials, too. Precision was key to her craft, and her weak left leg was throwing her off just enough that the girl with the red pigtails became complacent when dodging her. Sometimes Anna could use that complacency to her advantage, but almost every match ended in complete failure. Pain did not mean her senses had dulled, however. From the moment she stepped into her house after her latest trial, she could smell the stench of rust and blood intermingling. The Trapper had been here. 

It didn’t take her long to find the source of the smell. On her bed, a pair of deerskin gloves had been tossed down. Anna considered them for a while, before slipping them onto her hands. They fit perfectly.


End file.
